


Ila Al-Danah

by Ariss_Tenoh



Category: The Lions of Al-Rassan - Guy Gavriel Kay
Genre: Complete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 08:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariss_Tenoh/pseuds/Ariss_Tenoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is broken cannot be fixed and what is lost cannot be found. That is the way of the world.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She watched him leave the banquet and the party and walk towards the gardens in the back of their manor. Gardens styled like those in Al-Rassan with white marble fountains.

 

She hated them with a passion.

 

Miranda had not thought she could hate a dead man. It seemed a petty thing to do. Yet, she couldn't deny her husband rarely smiled anymore and he wasn't the man he once was. Some days, when the memories overwhelmed him, she couldn't recognize him at all.

 

Those instances always frightened her.

 

She wished she could follow him into the gardens, comfort him. But she knew better. Even his sons, dearest to him, didn't approach their father when he visited the gardens.

 

He'd taken to waking before dawn, not to tend to the ranch like he used to in the old days, and walking silently through the manor as if on some private pilgrimage. He would stop in the gardens, sit beside a fountain, and drink one glass of fine wine. And gaze at the stars till they faded away, and wait for the sun to rise as Asharites did in their Dawn Prayers.

 

Only one glass. And it would be left there, empty to await the next day. 

 

Her mother had told her she would meet people who'd leave a mark on her, a mark that couldn't be erased for all of her life. For good or ill. At the time, Miranda had been young and temperamental. She's thought it a silly idea... till she'd met Rodrigo.

 

Rodrigo, however, wasn't thus taken by her despite the love she knew he bore her. His indelible mark of a person had been a man called _Ammar Ibn Khairan_ whose reputation and tales had reached the status of legends even before his death. 

 

_His death...._ Miranda sighed and looked down. Her fine gown and precious jewels seemed to mock her with their gaiety.

 

Rodrigo had never forgiven himself for killing Ibn Khairan. She understood the man was extraordinary. All of the peninsula knew that. But Rodrigo saw it differently.

 

_"I killed a **man** among men. The last lion of Al-Rassan. Let me grieve in peace, woman."_

 

That had been said at the one year anniversary of Ammar Ibn Khairan's death. It was the day Rodrigo began his ritual at the gardens.

 

Nearly twenty years had gone by since then.

 

Diego and Fernan had grown into adults, married and gave her and her husband grandchildren. She and Rodrigo had moved into a manor given to them by the king, who bestowed upon her husband more titles and honours than could be counted. Esperana's lands increased and the lands united under its king's rule. Some even whispered that the newly founded prosperity rivaled that of the Khalifs of Al-Rassan. 

 

Only Rodrigo Belmonte thought otherwise. His lips would thin, his smile would turn cold and polite. He would incline his head as if he agreed. Then touch the pearl earring he wore with one hand; it's surface glowing like a widow's tear mocking them all and accusing them of telling lies. 

 

He had done that tonight as she had seen him do countless times before. Then he'd excused himself and walked out.

 

Miranda Belmonte stood alone on a balcony and watched her husband disappear toward the gardens. She cursed a dead man and grew angry at herself for doing so, while a half moon reigned above in the sky hinting of things left unsaid and deeds that could not be undone.


	2. Chapter 2

The red liquid ran down into the glass from a crystal decanter, which shone with filtered moonlight. He placed the decanter carefully on the fountain's rim, yet it still gave a small almost musical noise as it touched the marble's surface.

 

When he came here, he did not think. He knew his family thought he brooded but he didn't. He wished he did. There was only the silence, an empty void of sound and thought and feeling. 

 

On some days, he feared it would swallow him. The way it had swallowed another man.

 

Tonight, the anniversary of the king's reign was so widely celebrated that it brought forth memories of another night. Long ago......

 

_The door slowly opened and Rodrigo's hand darted to his sword. He blinked when he saw Ammar Ibn Khairan come in wearing the elaborate costume of a lion._

_"Are we going for irony then?" He drawled._

_Did he imagine it or was that a flash of hurt in the man's blue eyes?_

_"Perhaps. Or perhaps I am in the mood tonight for self-flagellation." Ammar flashed him a wry smile._

_Rodrigo immediately felt contrite. Yet he knew an apology would be ill received by one as proud as Ammar. He watched the man throw his lion's head and spread himself on the bed. Rodrigo stood up from his chair and poured a glass of wine for his unexpected guest._

_Ammar unbuttoned his gold embroidered tunic and accepted the offered drink. He turned his head a little looking right and left at the room._

_Rodrigo was silent. One of the benefits of being in Ibn Khairan's company was the lack of unnecessary small talk, despite the fact that the man was a famous poet._

_Finally, Ammar said, "There is a raucous carnival going on tonight and you are writing letters to your wife?" The crumpled pages littering the room bore testament to his words. "Truly, I do not know if you're **that** honourable a man or simply an exceedingly dull one."_

_"I believe I am the one who should ask you that, Ammar."_

_Lying on one side, facing Rodrigo, Ammar shrugged elegantly with one shoulder and replied, "The company left much to be desired."_

_Rodrigo shook his head and went back to his chair. He seated himself and picked up the quill again. "I'm trying to explain to my wife how I came to be here now. I'm finding it difficult to remember how events turned this way myself."_

_"Angry wives are hard to placate." There was amusement in Ammar's tone._

_He snorted and gripped his quill harder as if forcing it to write out thoughts he couldn't express. "Perhaps the famed poet of Cartada would like to help?"_

_"Ah ah! I make it a rule of mine not to interfere in a spouses' quarrel. It's hazardous to one's health."_

_"That is very funny coming from you." Rodrigo thought of the tales he'd heard of women, and even men, fighting over Ibn Khairan's company. He wondered if they were true._

_After an indeterminate period of silence passed, he felt the weight of a gaze on his back. He turned slowly in his chair, a feeling of apprehension running down his back for some reason._

_The sight that greeted his eyes made him swallow. Ammar Ibn Khairan lay on his bed, his tunic open to his navel revealing a smooth muscled chest. He'd removed his boots and unfastened the top of his brown leather trousers. He inclined his head ever so slightly and his pearl earring swung to and fro, it seemed to slyly wink at Rodrigo._

_"You..." He didn't know what to say. For a man who'd been a soldier all his life, his courage chose to desert him at the oddest moment._

_"Yes?" Ammar all but purred._

_The room was small enough that Ammar could reach across it and tug Rodrigo towards him without moving from the bed._

_Rodrigo stumbled and fell on top of Ammar, blushing fiercely, like a shy boy fumbling with a girl for the first time. "My wife is going to kill me," he pronounced._

_Ammar kissed him silent. When they parted for breath, he said, "I don't think she included men in her decree, did she?" There was that amused note again._

_"No.."_

_"Her mistake then." And with that Ammar drew him in for another devouring kiss._

_Their hands removed each other's clothes with unseemly haste. Between fervent desperate kisses and bites, Rodrigo stopped and asked, because it had to be asked. "What about Jehane?"_

_Solemness appeared for the first time tonight on Ammar's face. "Owls don't lie with lions, my Jaddite wolf." He reached upwards to touch Rodrigo's face and smiled. There was something in the smile hinting at more than momentary lust and casual amusement._

_It eased something tight in Rodrigo's chest and he leaned down for another kiss. There were a lot of somethings between them tonight; he was no poet like Ammar and couldn't express himself like the other man could._

_There was merely the firm, relieved thought that Ammar had chosen to come to him tonight._

 

That night had been sweet, and aching, and passionate, and the essence of which romantic stories were woven from.... Until Alvar had crashed the door and found them entwined together. A smile teased Lord Belmonte's mouth. Poor Alvar had been so speechless and red that he couldn't utter a word for days to come. 

 

Days later, their world would fracture around them. 

 

He raised the glass to his dry lips. The wine he swallowed tasted bitter. 

 

A part of his mind derided him for being so sentimental. Grieving for dead lovers was a woman's pastime. Not for a man who'd proven his honour and skill on countless battlefields, a man named by his king as Protector of The Realm.

 

Another fond memory drifted past his mind's eye.....

 

_After that, there were quick hidden moments and stolen kisses. Nothing so complete and consuming as that one night. The day before Hell descended upon them, he'd held Ammar against a wall in the stable, while his horse hid them from view. Ammar had laughed and accused him of having a farmer's taste in picking places for a lover's meeting._

_Rodrigo's arms tightened around him and he buried his face in Ammar's neck._

_"What is it?" Ammar's voice was very gentle, the way a mother speaks to her child._

_Minutes or hours later, Rodrigo found his voice. "I fear the tidings of the future." Rodrigo cursed himself for cowardice, he couldn't look at the man's face and confess his fears._

_Ammar's hand settled on the back of Rodrigo's neck. It's warmth searing him through to the core._

_"One cannot stop the winds from shaping a storm," his lover said simply._

_Silence spread from them after those words were heard and only their hands spoke to one another's bodies. Spoke of things that couldn't be said by their mouths._

 

He placed the empty glass on the fountain's rim and gazed at the stars.

 

"'War feeds like a wild dog upon the hearts of brave men'." he pushed back his long brown hair behind one ear. The years had added silver to it. "Tell me Ammar, what does it do to a lover's heart?" He whispered to himself. "I wouldn't know. This hollow chest has no answers." 

 

Rodrigo Belmonte sat there on the fountain's rim till the sun's light peeked from the east. Damask roses bloomed all around him in shades of pink and white, their sweet scent carried to him by a gentle breeze.

 

"I will see you tomorrow, old friend." Old words to him.

 

He stood, his body protesting the hours spent sitting in the night's cold air, and smoothed his robes. 

 

High above in the sky, the sun's dawning light began to obscure the light of the stars... the stars of the Lion constellation watched the figure retreat in the distance.......

 

~ End ~

**Author's Note:**

> Written June 21st 2006 for Alice Montrose who asked for it. I'm afraid it turned out very differently from your request but I hope you'll like it.
> 
> "Al-Danah" is Arabic for "Great/big/precious pearl" which was of course greatly valued during the pearl-diving days of the people of the Arabian Gulf. The title means "To the precious pearl."


End file.
